


Monomania

by splunge



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Johncroft, M/M, crack-ish fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-14
Updated: 2016-01-14
Packaged: 2018-05-13 21:30:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5717779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/splunge/pseuds/splunge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft has a slight obsession...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Monomania

There was very little that fascinated him. It was not that all the extraordinary events he had seen and witnessed had made him view the world as simple and mundane, but it was simply that nothing could capture his interest so definitely. 

However, John Watson’s nipple were another matter.

Mycroft had been staring at the nub for the past hour. He should have been asleep: after all, the exertions they both had invested just mere hours before were activities that would make a high-end escort avert their eyes in shame. He was wide awake, however, with his mental workings fixed on the left nub on John’s creamy white chest. John snored lightly. He looked peaceful when he slept. Mycroft liked that. But, he liked the nipples more. It was ridiculous. They were simply another part of the human anatomy. But Mycroft could attest to any who should contradict him; John Watson’s nipples, especially the left, were an anomaly. They were light in colour, not menacingly dark like other men’s. They looked (and felt) soft and they were neither round nor plump, they simply looked like they had been folded over and over like savoury sweet pastries. Mycroft concentrated on the left one, his favourite. Its peak wasn’t very high nor pointy and the valley that surrounded it was just as pink. There were very little hairs on John’s chest. So, anyone’s attention would be focused on those two projections of wonders.

Mycroft was hesitant to move. His cheek was currently resting on his palm, giving him a good view of John’s entire body, especially his nude, bare chest. With his other hand, he hovered over John’s torso. Warm heat emitted from John’s heaving chest. He let his hand hang over the taunting left nub of wonder, just for a second, and pulled his hand away. This obsession was frankly unforgivable. And unreasonable. He couldn’t fathom the logic. Sherlock would surely laugh at him for days on end. John smacked his lips. Why do people do that in their sleep? Wetting their lips and popping their mouths? Was it thirst? Dryness? John’s lips formed a pout. Soft snores grew a bit louder then subsided. Mycroft hovered his hand over John again, this time over his brow, letting the tip of his finger lightly brushed against a strand of John’s hair. He moved down and suspended the tip of his finger over John’s eyelid, made a journey towards John’s nose and curved with the tip and brushed John’s lips. John twitched but didn’t wake. Mycroft studied John’s brows, they were knitted together, not uncharacteristic of a waking John Watson: always angry and irritated and yet absolutely wonderful. Mycroft inched his body closer and could feel the heat of sleep. He reached across John’s body for the left nipple and seized it between his lips. He let the nub swim against his teeth before he could no longer contain himself and began sucking and wanted very much to swallow it whole. His eyes were closed and he could taste the saltiness of John’s skin and the pure sweetness of that exquisite bump. His hand splayed across John’s side.

“ _Mmmm…_ ” 

That was John. Or was it him?

Mycroft licked a stripe up and kissed the nub before he mouthed it again. He could feel a hand in his hair, stroking. He sucked just one more time before releasing it and searched for John’s face.

John’s eyes were closed but there was a tired but playful and adorable smile on his lips. His hands were still stroking Mycroft’s hair. Mycroft decided to wipe that little smirk off his face with a kiss. He took John’s lips and left the younger man staggered and breathless.

However, as it had always been the case with John Watson, Mycroft failed.

John retaliated with a forceful kiss, deep and hard and penetrating, full of tongue and lips and wetness and feelings, that Mycroft’s cock twitched. Again.

A loud pop signalled a release. Mycroft’s lips found their freedom, but his eyes were arrested in blurriness. It took some time before he could focus on John.

“What was that about?” asked John, amused.

“I think,” Mycroft hesitated, “I think, perhaps, I’ve become obsessed with this.”

Mycroft touched John’s left nipple with the tip of his finger.

John laughed.

“You asked me…”

“Yeah,” said John. “Last week, I remember. I asked if you have a favourite body part. It was just random pillow talk, I didn’t—”

“Nevertheless, I’ve been thinking about _this_ for some time and it’s… my favourite.”

“Well,” John chuckled. “I’m glad.”

John kissed his cheek and closed his eyes. “Get some sleep, love,” he said and lay back against the pillows. 

Mycroft watched and his eyes went back to John’s chest. He resumed his study and would allow himself a few more minutes with this utter miracle before he goes to bed. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is a shorter story compared to my previous one. I wanted to post this so that I can work to overcome my current block. Please let me know what you think and do leave comments! I love all of your comments and advice and suggestions, they encourage me to write more. So, don't hold back! And as always, many thanks for reading!


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